Page 334 of The First Taste

“No. You have the wrong person.”

Hades trades a sideways glance with the other brother, Eros. “I dinnae think we do. We are looking for ye, lass. An angel beset by devils, on the run from the law.” His lips twitch. “Or is it Constantine yer running from?”

At that moment, all hell breaks loose inside my head. I thrash violently, trying to get loose. All while, Hades just stands there, seeming almost amused by my struggle for freedom.

“Yer just going to hurt yerself, Persephone.”

Ares jerks my arm. I reflexively bite him, burying my teeth into the flesh of his shoulder.

“Fuck!” He jabs me with the gun again, but I don’t care. There are worse things than dying.

Never, ever let a kidnapper take you to a second location. Those words keep playing repeatedly in my head, an incessant loop.

I start screaming. Hades flicks his fingers at me, dismissive. Ares digs his hand into the flesh on my neck, his fingers forming a band. My air is cut off at the slightest pressure from his fingers.

I look to Hades, my expression pleading. He smirks as he looks at my face. “Shut up. Dinnae make any more fuss. Or I’ll let Ares render ye unconscious.”

“Maybe ye should let me do it anyway,” Ares grits out.

My struggles do not cease, but they do slow down. Ares still chokes me as I stand here, waiting to hear Hades’ decision.

He flicks his fingers again. “Get her in the car. We need to be going.”

Then he turns on his heel and heads away, leaving Ares to scoop me up and manhandle me all the way to the car.

Hades

We are an hour from a private island in Turks and Caicos when Persephone finally quiets down. I find it harder to notice the absence of sound. Especially when I’m wearing a truly magnificent pair of headphones that drown out the sound of her muffled struggles.

After she was less than compliant during the boarding process, I ordered her gagged.

But eventually I sip my whiskey cocktail and I notice that the stewardess’s posture is less tense. For the first part of the flight, Persephone begged the attendant to do something to help her. Told her personal details, like her full name and that she has a brother that will miss her.

Trying to make herself more memorable, I would guess. And once I had Persephone gagged, the stewardess only seemed even more frightened.

But now she flicks me a worried little smile as she refills my drink. So I take off the headphones. Persephone doesn’t make a sound. All I can hear is the faint clink of the glasses on the stewardess’s tray as she retreats.

Blessedly, all that is left is silence. Standing up, I turn and walk to the back of the plane.

Persephone is still right where I left her, tied and bound. Her eyes are closed, her dark eyebrows delicately arched and her rimmed lashes lying still against her heart shaped face. Her dark head has fallen to the side and her long, raven locks move ever so gently when the plane bumps. She has devilish, pouty lips and a button nose that make her appear more innocent than she should dare to look.

I can’t make heads or tails out of the bulky sweater she’s wearing. But I know that despite the dynamite of her theatrics earlier, she’s just over five feet tall.

All that fuss. Yet here she is now, sleeping. There is something about her mouth that’s so fucking alluring. I rub the scar that peeks out of my left sleeve, my left eye twitching just a little. It takes me a minute to realize that the alien feeling inside my chest is something akin to desire.

Strange. I almost never feel such wasteful emotions. The lass is a siren, no doubt about it. But the fact that I’m moved by her innocence is… puzzling.

Why should I care about her in the slightest?

She stirs, waking gradually. I sit down in the seat across from her, watching her face closely.

She makes a soft sound against her gag. Then she looks up and startles, seeing me. She pushes up in her seat, glaring at me.

I purse my lips. “If ye promise not to scream and carry on, I can take the gag out of yer mouth.”

She looks at me for a second, taking my measure. Then she nods once.

I arch a brow. “Ye promise?”